


The 'Code Red' Affair

by Avirra



Series: Man from U.N.C.L.E - Sound & Dialogue [23]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1972545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avirra/pseuds/Avirra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A plane has gone down with Illya Kuryakin and Mark Slate among the passengers.  Are they the victims of an airline tragedy or is some other plot afoot?   Multi-chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crash

_door opening_

"Any word yet, April?"

"We've gotten word, but I'm afraid it's nothing positive, Napoleon. Just confirmation that the plane they were on lost radar contact without a peep over the radio and never arrived at its destination. The aviation authories have issued a Code Red."

"Dammit. Where was the plane when they lost contact?"

"That's the only positive. They were still over the water, but not far from shore. If the plane was able to make even a brief water landing, there's a chance they could have made it to land."

"Not a big positive there, April."

"We'll find them. Illya's very resourceful and Mark's - well, Mark's can stay calm through the oddest situations. They always told us in Survival School that staying calm was half of the battle."

"That is a fact. Come on. Sooner we get on the scene ourselves, the better I'll like it."

. . . . .

"Mister Solo, Miss Dancer. My supervisor told me to be expecting you and that your organization is to be allowed full access to the case. I'm Jarmon Bratcher - in charge of recovery operations."

"Mister Bratcher. I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you if not for the circumstance. Any findings yet?"

"Yessir, but I don't believe that you'll care for them. We found several bodies and have identified one of them as the co-pilot. He was shot in the back of the head."

"I think we can rule out the plane going down due to mechanical failure."

"Possibly not, Miss Dancer. If the person with the gun hit the control panel as well as the co-pilot, they might have caused a fatal mechanical error whether that was their intention or not."

"Fine then. We can eliminate that only mechanical failure was a problem."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry. I know this is more than just an investigation into a crash for the two of you."

_paper rustling_

"The preliminary report on the bullet is enough to show that it didn't come from the weapons Agents Kuryakin and Slate were registered to be carrying onboard. So far, we haven't located the other others of the crew, but we have frogmen on their way down to the submerged plane as we speak."

"How many people were onboard?"

"According to records, the flight wasn't fully booked. Fifty-six pasengers, including your two agents, plus nine crew so sixty-five altogether. We've also recovered twelve passengers in addition to the co-pilot, none of which could be your men from the descriptions we were given. That leaves forty-three unaccounted for at the moment, Mister Solo."

"My God. All those people."

"At the moment, it is being considered to be a hijacking attempt that went wrong. We're trying to keep the media out of it, but with the number of civilians aboard, that isn't going to keep for much longer."

"Thank you. If there is any other equipment available, Miss Dancer and I would like to join the frogmen."

"Well, I certainly don't have to ask if you're dive certified. Certainly. I can have gear here for you within the hour."

"We'll wait here on the shore if you don't mind."

"Napoleon? Do you think it really was a hijacking?"

"No. I don't think your average hijacker could have succeeded with either Illya or Mark onboard, let alone with both of them on the flight. Illya isn't what I'd call someone to sit back and see how things unfold. And most certainly not where civilian lives are involved."

"I don't know if I want to hear the answer to this or not, but what do you think we'll find?"

"To be honest, April, I think we'll find one of two things. Either Illya and Mark were dead before the plane hit the water or they weren't on it when it crashed. If nothing else, one of them would have gotten a transmission out, however short."

"You're right. And perhaps it's wishful thinking instead of a woman's intuition, but I don't think we'll find them down there, Napoleon."

"My guts agree with your intuition, so let's go down looking for any hints our partners may have been able to leave us."


	2. Underwater Search

_splashing_  
 _  
_"Well, that was depressing."

"Informative as well, April. We know Illya and Mark aren't still on the plane."

"I got a good count as well. From the numbers we were given by Bratcher? Counting our boys, we've got five missing."

"I noticed something else disturbing. Notice anything about the passengers."

"That was the depressing part, Napoleon. Not a one of them was even out of their seats - still buckled in."

"Like no-one even tried to save themselves. I could believe that of some of the passengers, but not every passenger. Especially after he told us that he thought the plane probably stayed on the surface for at least a few minutes before going down."

"So - something was done that possibly had them knocked out? I saw that the oxygen masks had all dropped down and the passengers all had them on."

"If all the passengers were unconscious, Illya and Mark being gone without a fight would make more sense, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would. But how would they take out all of the passengers without a horrible struggle?"

"My first thought would have been gas, but that probably would have affected the flight crew as well."

"Wait - I just had a thought. We've got enough air in our tanks, let's go back down. There's something I'd like a look at."

* * *

"April. you're a genius. You were right - they spliced their canister of gas into the line with the passenger's emergency oxygen tank."

"Well, I got to thinking about those oxygen masks again. If you wanted to gas a planeload of passengers, what easier way than by a method they wouldn't question? And by the time our boys would have noticed something was wrong, odds are their movement had likely already been impaired enough that they couldn't have put up much of a fight."

"Let's head back to the shore and turn this tank over to Bratcher - get an idea of exactly what this gas would have done. We need names for the other three missing. Those might give us an idea where our partners are."

"Do you think its THRUSH behind it, Napoleon?"

"If not them, some other bunch that has a high disregard for human life."

"I suppose the only positive I can come up with is that Illya and Mark should still be alive. Too elaborate and too much fuss to just kill them outright."

"That positive also has a negative. I doubt our partners are in a comfortable situation."

"All the more reason for us to find them as quickly as possible, darling. Perhaps Bratcher could help us with a bit of misinformation."

"How so, my dear?"

"I highly doubt our baddies hung around long enough for the plane to come to its final resting place. What if we asked for him to put out that the plane ruptured underwater and that it left more bodies unaccounted for than the actual number. It might throw them off that anyone might be on their trail."

"And the more secure they feel, the less likely they might be to go to greater lengths to hide them. Good idea. You're on a roll today, Miss Dancer."

"Why, thank you, Mister Solo. I just hope it helps."

"At the very least, I doubt it could hurt."

* * *

"A gas cylinder?"

"Yes. Can we get this to a lab and see exactly what it is the passengers were gassed with?"

"Certainly. I'll take it in myself and make sure they know it's a rush job. No signs of your missing agents, I take it?"

"None."

"Whoever we're dealing with are some cold-hearted bastards to kill off a whole plane of people just to capture two men. I can't say I envy your agents being in their hands."

_sigh_

"I'd worry about them less if it was a team missing."

"I'm not sure I follow you, Miss Dancer?"

"Sorry, Mister Bratcher. I only meant that Mark and I are a team. We've worked out between ourselves how to deal with situations and I'm sure Illya and Napoleon have done the same."

"She's right on that. It helps in a tight situation to know in advance what you can count on how the person with you will react."

"I can see that - bad analogy, but I suppose it might be a bit like having to use a gun that you aren't used to."

"That's the basic idea."

"I'll get going to the labs. You two care to come along or do you want to stay on the scene a bit longer?"

"Let us get stripped out of the rest of this gear and we'll come with you. I don't think there's anything else for us here."


	3. In T.H.R.U.S.H Hands

"Only thing worse than waking up in a ruddy cell without any clothes is not remembering how the hell you ended up in a ruddy cell. This is worse than flying coach. Colder too. They could have at least left a blanket."

_chain rattling_

_sigh_

"Come on, Illya. I can't reach you to check your pulse and at this angle, I can't even tell if you're breathing alright. Open those icy-blue eyes of yours and at least let me know you're alive. You're starting to make me nervous here, mate."

_soft moan_

"That's it, old bean. Turn over and talk to me."

_cough_

"Kto ty?" (Who are you?)

"Oh no. Don't do this to me, Illya. I'm not your partner - I'm Mark. Remember? I don't understand Russian. English, please. Or Spanish. I can do Spanish."

"Chto vy govorite o?" (What are you talking about?)

_groan_

"I hate my bloody luck."

* * *

_slap_

"You imbecile! What did you do to Kuryakin?"

"I did warn that there was a small chance of partial memory loss with the drugs, sir."

"How long?"

"Well, sir. Some patients only have a brief bout of short-term memory loss. Some experience a larger loss. That would seem to be Mister Kuryakin's category."

"Not how far back, you idiot. How long until he regains his memory?"

_throat clearing_

"Most that experience the loss regain it in a few days. Some take longer and . . ."

_throat clearing_

". . . some never regain it."

"After what our went through to get their hands on him, you had best pray that he regains his within four days. Or you will both be written off as useless and the authorities will be finding two of their missing bodies washing up on shore."

"Pardon me, sir. Not that I disagree about Russell's incompetence with the drugging of the agent, but Mister Kuryakin might still be of use."

"Explain yourself, Krinard."

"Slate might not be as in depth on information we want as Kuryakin, but he's bound to have some intel that would be valuable. We could use Kuryakin as a wedge against him."

"Wouldn't work. You don't know these Section Two agents like I do. They seem to form pacts with one another."

"Yes sir - I have heard that. But would Agent Slate possibly feel qualms about his refusal to cooperate casuing the death of a man who doesn't even remember the pact?"

_fingers drumming_

"I like the way your mind works, Krinard. Keep that up and you could go far in our group. Yes, That might just be an angle that we can work. Call Gorman. I want you to work with him. Nothing is to start for a couple of days until we see if his memory seems to be functioning again. If it doesn't, I want something very loud and visual done with Kuryakin. But not fatal. We'll see if Slate can continue to view a man with no memory as an agent or if he starts to see him as an innocent."


	4. Family Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Man from U.N.C.L.E., Season 4 - The 'Man from THRUSH' Affair

_door opening_

"Any news back on that gas, Mister Bratcher?"

"That's what I was coming to see you about. It's a mix our labs haven't seen before, but it shares earmarks with several of the more popular ones that are used for people undergoing surgery. Some of the side effects might be a bit extreme because they wouldn't have been able to adjust the amount of gas inhaled by the individual's size and weight."

"Oh dear. You mean that if they had the concentration strong enough to put out everyone onboard that the lighter passengers could have been injured?"

"Could have been killed, Miss Dancer. Our lab boys are saying that passengers under 150 pounds might not have made it back from a comatose state. Those under 125 pounds were likely dead before the plane hit the water. Mister Kuryakin was described to me as having a small build?"

"He does. Illya weighs in at around 160 normally. Too close for comfort."

"And Mister Slate?"

"My Mark comes in around 180. Or at least he did his last physical."

"I'm told that just a few pounds can make all the difference in the world, so I'd have to say that wherever they are, your Mister Kuryakin isn't in as good a shape as Mister Slate is right now. He could be experiencing anything from vertigo to partial memory loss to actual brain damage or temporary blindness. The sooner he's in proper care, the better his chances at a decent recovery."

"If they decide he's no good to them if he can't answer their questions, they might just kill him for spite. We've already seen that remorse isn't exactly on their radar."

"Try to keep a positive thought, Napoleon. They went to an awful lot of expense to just toss him before at least giving him at least a little recovery time to see if he pulls through."

"I won't stop looking even if it's for his body, April - but I'd rather not dwell on false hopes. Anything else from the lab boys?"

"Believe it or not - a decent fingerprint. It traced back to Edgar Russell. Former anesthesiologist."

"Former? Not for a reason that will give any comfort, is it?"

"Afraid not. Larger percentage of comas and deaths on his shifts than averages allow."

"Great. Any idea of where he went when he left the hospital environment?"

"He rather drops off the map, I'm afraid. However, the canister itself is not without its stories to tell."

"It's not our bedtime, but why don't you tell us one of those stories?"

"Not an appropriate story for bedtime, Miss Dancer, so just as well. This canister was made by Turdiday Industries. Alter the last letter and you have Turdidae - the scientific family name for the thrush. The man in charge of Turdiday Industries is Ronald Filene."

"I heard that, Napoleon. You know that name."

"I know the last name at least. Ronald Filene isn't related to Gregory Filene, is he?"

"Afraid so. Gregory was the older brother."

"Damn."

"I take it you know Gregory Filene, Napoleon?"

"So to speak, I **was** him for little while, April. Which is something his brother might have taken exception to. Filene died on his way to THRUSH post where he wasn't known. We needed a way in and I decided to take his identity and infiltrate."*

"This may be far more personal than initially suspected then."

"Especially if Ronald Filene thinks we deliberately killed his brother just to take his identity, Mister Bratcher. I did intend to take his identity but killing him wasn't planned. It happened when he pulled a weapon on the agent that worked that assignment with me."

"It wasn't Illya with you?"

"No. I was with an agent named Andreas Petros for that mission. Illya was off on another one at the time. So, Mister Bratcher -"

"It looks like we're going to be working together for awhile, so I'd prefer it if the two of you would drop the formalities and just call me Gene."

"Fine - so long as that goes both ways. So, tell us more about Turdiday Industries."

"Alright, Napoleon. Their headquarters is located about a two hour drive from here. Their headquarters includes a small private airstrip and company resources also include a helicopter as well as a corporate jet. They have six different research facilities, two of which are in this region."

"Which means that once they got our boys out of the water, they could have moved them without a great deal of fuss. They could have been taken anywhere that jet could reach."

"While I agree with that, April, if this is personal, we might need to look at this another way. Gene? Which company facility is the closest to where Filene lives?"

"That would be this one, about twenty six miles from the headquarters."

"Not that I want to ignore other possibilities, but I'd like to check out that one myself."

"Not alone, darling."

"Wasn't even considering that, April."


	5. Memory Lapses

_intercom switch flipping on_

"Russell - report to my office immediately."

"Yes, Mister Filene. At once, sir."

_intercom switch flipping off_

_fingers drumming_

_door opening_

"You wanted to see me, Mister Filene?"

"Of course I did, you imbecile. Why else would I have told you to report here? Any signs of improvement on Kuryakin?"

"No, sir. But it hasn't been -"

"Did I ask how long it has been?"

"N-no, sir."

"Perhaps Kuryakin might still regain his memory, perhaps not. I am not a patient man and I am no longer willing to wait for results. When I buried my brother last year, I purchased two plots, side by side. Do you know why I did that?"

"No, Mister Filene."

"I did it because I plan to bury the one responsible for my brother's death by his side. It is my intent to fill that grave by the anniversary of his death. Now, I want Slate readied for questioning within the hour."

"Y-yes, sir. At once. And Kuryakin?"

"Separate the two of them for the moment. Have Gorman fetch Slate from the basement. I want you to prepare the interrogation area."

"As you wish, sir. Any special items you want used?"

_pleased sigh_

"Ah, yes. Now I remember why I've kept you around for so long, Russell. Your wide array of knowledge in certain areas beyond anesthesia. I think we should go with something relatively comfortably but completely movement restricting for Slate and have it facing a set of hanging chains that we will use to display Kuryakin after our initial chat with Slate is over."

"And the accessories?"

"I'll leave that to your discretion, Russell. Just make sure that it is an impressive display and close enough to Slate so that he can view the selection in all details."

"Thank you, sir. I will inform Gorman of your wishes and begin at once."

* * *

_grumbling_

"I don't see why Filene couldn't have had Russell or Krinard do this. I was recruited for my expertise, not for grunt work."

_door unlocking_

"Come along, Slate. Time for you to stretch you legs a bit."

"Don't go to any trouble on me account."

"No trouble at all. Your host wants to have a nice chat with you. The Russian is still out of it, I see."

_rattling chains_

"As I was saying, your host - our director - has a few questions for you regarding Solo and it would be in your best interest to -"

_sharp cracking_

_thud_

"Ublyudok." (Bastard)

"You - you're very good at that neck breaking thing, Illya. If you don't remember I'm a friend, can you please at least think of me as not an enemy?"

. . . .

"You probably aren't really understanding me yet, but have I ever mentioned that your eyes are a really terrifying shade of blue when you stare like that?"

"My uyezzhayem" (We are leaving)

"Thanks for the hand up, mate. I guess we're making a go for it?"

"Vy govorite slishkom mnogo." (You talk too much)

"You know, if we ever get out of here, I'm taking a course in basic Russian."


	6. Making a Run for It

_car engine idling_

"This is our destination. Their compound is across the way"

"So that's one of Turdiday's research facilities. You know, Gene? I've seen friendlier looking prisons. And less well guarded ones as well."

"Does seem a trifle extreme for a legitimate research group, darlings. But then again, we're already fairly certain they're far from legitimate. Good thing we decided to wear basic black."

"True. I feel like I've invaded Illya's wardrobe, but I don't suppose he'll take offense. Come on, April – we get out here. Gene?"

_car door easing open_

"I'll take the car a little farther down to stay out of sight of nosey birds. You both have your communicators for when you need pickup, right? I'll be monitoring Channel J."

"Channel J. Got it."

_car door closing softly_

_car driving off_

"Napoleon? Darts or live rounds?"

"Darts for now, April, but keep your other clip handy. Filene's already racked up a high death toll."

"No worries about me forgetting that. Let's go find our boys."

"Keep low. I think I see a spot where we can get through the fence without -"

_alarms_

"I'm not sure if that a good sign. I didn't see any thing we might have tripped, Napoleon. You hadn't even touched the fence yet."

"I know. But that may mean our partners have made a move to get themselves out."

_gunshot_

"That definitely wasn't a good sign. April - I'm seeing movement to the left of the building. Got your field glasses?"

"Right here. Let me - yes. It's Mark. And without a stitch on. Looks like a guard has spotted him as well. No sign of Illya yet."

"Let's go give your partner a hand, then see where mine might be. Maybe they took off in different directions to increase their odds of escape. You go to the left, I'll go to the right."

_rifle cocking_

"Stop where you are, Slate. Quit running. The boss wants you back, but he's not fussy whether or not you come back under your own power or if you're able to walk again."

_panting_

"Dammit, alright. I give."

"How far did you actually think you'd get? Think even if there was a car out here that anyone would stop for a nude man?"

"Never can tell, mate. There are many lonely grans out in the world."

"Shut up and turn around. Keep your hands where I can see them."

"What do think I'm going to do? It's not like I have pockets for a concealed weapon."

"I said shut up! Start walking back to the building."

"Excuse me? Could you direct me to the powder room?"

"Halt! Where did you come -"

_muffled shot_

_thud_

"Nice shot - right in the buttocks."

"It helped that you got him to turn away from me, April. Are you alright, Mark? Where's Illya?"

"Sorry, Napoleon. Illya didn't make it out. I was halfway through the window we found when the alarms started going off. Illya said - something - and then shoved me the rest of the way through."

"Are you hurt? Was the shot we heard at you or at Illya?"

"I don't know which of us was being shot at, I just know I wasn't hit. As for the rest, nothing permanent, but I would advise future agents against climbing out through small windows without clothes. Things - catch."

"I'll keep that in mind. Here. Take my communicator, head toward the road and contact Gene on Channel J. No offense, Mark, but I think you'd be more in the way than useful in your current state."

"I don't like not going back for Illya, but you're probably right, Napoleon."

"Wait. What you said earlier. What did you mean by Illya said 'something'? Was he muttering?"

"No, but Illya's not spoken a single word that wasn't in Russian since he woke up in our cell."

"Damn. Did he at least seem to know you?"

"Not really, but at least he didn't break my neck like he did to one of our captors."

"Great. If he doesn't seem like he's going to cooperate with us, we might have to dart him, April."

"Be careful, both of you. Especially you, Napoleon. The one Illya killed? He was about to drag me off to be questioned about you."

"Sounds like Filene's definitely holding a grudge, darling."

"After what he's done, I'm rather holding a grudge myself. Let's go."


	7. Interrogation

_fingers drumming_

"Merrick, how long have you been my second in command and overseen the incarceration of prisoners awaiting interrogation for THRUSH for me?"

"Over three years now, Mister Filene."

"Over three years. How many men do you currently have under your command as guards at this facility?"

"Twenty, sir."

"Do you believe you have too few men?"

"No, sir."

"Have I failed to provide you and your men with the best field weapons that THRUSH has to offer?"

"No, sir."

"Are you deliberately trying to undermine my status in THRUSH?"

"No! No, never, Mister Filene!"

"I see. Then I have to ask you this. Would you care to enlighten me how two unarmed and nude UNCLE agents - in a cell, no less - managed to kill one of my best interrogators and escape while your men were on guard? With your men only being able to recapture one of them? And even then, you didn't manage to recapture him - still unarmed and nude - without shooting him, knowing full that I still want information from him. One man. The men you trained could not overpower one man?"

"Mister Filene, I - no, sir, please!"

_gunshot_

"Krinard."

"Yes, Mister Filene?"

"Have this worthless corpse drug to the pit. You will be taking over his position."

"At once, Mister Filene. Caparelli - Bell - get this body out of here."

_dragging_

"Is Kuryakin conscious?"

"Yes, but still only speaking in Russian, sir."

"That no longer matters. Is he in danger of bleeding out?"

"Your physician assures me that the bullet didn't hit anything vital, sir. He is in pain, but not currently at risk of dying."

"Excellent. A little pain might help sharpen his memory. Have him taken to the room Russell prepared. I trust the two of you can make up for the loss of Gorman?"

"Gorman was an artist, sir. However, whatever we might lack in his finesse, we will try to make up in determination."

"Just make sure he lives until I am ready for him to die or the consequences will not be pleasant."

"Of course, sir. He will be ready for your questions in just a few minutes."

"Has Slate been located yet?"

"No, sir, but there is only so far he can get."

"Inform the searchers that the man that takes him down will earn a bonus. If Slate is brought back alive, the man responsible will have his pay doubled. Permanently."

"Yes, Mister Filene. Does condition matter?"

"Slate must remain able to speak. Beyond that, so long as there is enough of him left that the doctor can keep breathing, I do not care."

* * *

"Bring Kuryakin over here. Still have some fight in you, do you? Not that it will help you any. Hold him in place."

_chains_

_four locks fastening_

"You can release him now. He won't be going anywhere."

"Shlyukha syna."

_door opening_

"What did he say, Kuruc?"

"Kuryakin referred to Mister Krinard as being a whore's son, sir."

"You went to all the trouble to bring in a translator? I would have thought my tone alone would make the insults obvious."

"You remember English now, Kuryakin?"

"Quite well."

_slap_

"That was for wasting my time."

"Actually, none of you ever bothered to ask me if I could speak English. I saw no need to correct your assumptions."

"I had always heard that you had a smart mouth, Kuryakin. That sort of thing can lead a man into trouble."

_sharp intake of air_

"You're a bit sensitive there, I see. Bullet wounds do tend to be rather tender for quite a while after the fact, don't they? Shame that your self-sacrifice at allowing Slate to go first only resulted in his death in the fields outside this building. Where did either of you really think you could go?"

_slap_

"Answer me!"

"Idi k chertu, ublyudok!" (Go to hell, bastard)

"Back to Russian, Kuryakin?"

"I could say it with feeling best in my native tongue."

"And Slate's death?"

"He died a free man. No one can expect much more from life than that."

"It's more than you can expect."

"For now. Death itself will free me."

"Not for a damn long time, Kuryakin. Not for a very damn long time."


	8. Infiltration

_whispers_

"That was the last of the outer guards, Napoleon."

"Good. We're on a tight deadline here, April. We need to get in and back out before the darts start to wear off. So with the amount of time we had to take out here? We have less than ninety minutes left."

_masculine pained yell_

"Place doesn't seem to be sound-proofed."

"Why would they need to be? They aren't right on the road and there's not another building in sight."

"Do you think that's might have been Illya?"

"Chort tzdbya beeree, Moorzilka!"

"Yep. That's my partner alright. This door. Won't take more than a couple of minutes for me to pick this lock. Need to reload?"

"Already have. What did Illya say? I really should take a course in Russian."

"Trust me on this, April my dear? What Illya just said is not taught in any classroom. And no, I'm not translating."

_gunshot_

_masculine scream_

"Dammit! April - stay out here and contact Gene. Tell him we're going to need Medical. And a clean-up crew. I'm going on in. Follow behind me after you're done, but don't rush in."

"You mean the way that you're about to do?"

"Exactly. Do as I say and not as I do. Illya might not have time for us to play it cautious any longer."

"Watch yourself in there, Napoleon."

"I always do."

_sigh_

"Men. Open Channel J. Dancer to Bratcher."

"Bratcher here. Ready for extraction?"

"Negative. We are going to require both a Medical team and a clean-up crew. Nephew one has entered the nest to look for nephew two and the niece is about to join him."

"I'll relay what you need to the head of the family. Should we send in more of the family to help?"

"No time for them to make the trip. Going to go join in myself now. Dancer out."

_car door opening_

"Whoa! Where do you think you're going, Slate?"

"That's my partner who's about to go in there. You don't think I'm going to just continue to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, do you?"

"Slate . . . Mark. All the clothing I had for you was a pair of swim trunks."

"For which I am grateful, Gene. But that doesn't change anything."

_soft grumble_

"Fine. I'd be the same way if it was my partner. Go. Take my backup piece."

"Thanks, mate. Make sure the teams stay at least a mile out until the all clear's given."

"I will. Good luck, Mark."

"I could use a little of it for once, Gene."

* * *

"Russell! Wake the Russian back up!"

"Yes, Mister Filene."

_splash_

_coughing_

"Cold water? Crude, but apparently effective. Now, shall we try this again, Kuryakin? Just a few simple questions about your partner and I'll allow the doctor to tend your newest wound. How old is Solo?"

"He keeps telling me that he was not born yesterday. so he must be at least two days old."

_slap_

_hiss_

"I assure you, Kuryakin, my men can keep dishing it out far longer than you can take it. And don't count on me letting you die."

"Mister Filene!"

"What is it, Krinard?"

_soft whispering_

"Really? How very fortuitous. Yes. Do as you suggested."

_chain rattling_

_muffled grunt_

"That should keep you quiet enough, Russian. Shall we drag him here after capture, Mister Filene?"

"By all means. Bring Solo in here so that we can reunite the partners briefly before sending them back to Waverly in a box. Yes, Kuryakin. It's seems Solo has saved me the trouble of looking for him by delivering himself to me. I might even show my gratitude and allow him to die quickly. After he watches your execution, of course. Struggle all you like. The sound of the chains will just draw him in and you won't be able to call out a warning."

* * *

"So - no telling where April and Napoleon went in at. Hm. Think I might just take the least expected route and go back in through the window I left out of. Nothing still there for anyone to guard, after all."

_laughter_

"Bollocks. That can't mean anything good."


	9. Extraction

_soft whispers_

"Well, the window hasn't been secured. I suppose I'll find out soon enough if that's good luck or bad.. Bloody hell - already talking to myself. Here goes."

_low grunting_

_bare feet hitting concrete_

"Blood right under the window. Idiots. No reason to have shot him."

_door opening_

"And I tell you I heard something down there."

"Probably just a rat. Go on down and take a look if you want to, Vance. Me? I want to get a look at this Solo fellow while he's still breathing."

"You're probably right. I don't hear anything now. Let's go."

_door closing_

_door opening softly_

"Mister Solo. So we meet at long last."

"I'm guessing that you must be Ronald Filene."

"Quite correct, Mister Solo. Nice to know that we can dispense with introductions. I'm sure if Mister Kuryakin were able to talk, he'd say he was glad to see you as well."

"I'm the one you wanted. You don't need to hold him any more."

"Hmm. Quite correct again, Mister Solo. Krinard? Get your gun ready. Mister Solo has a point. We may as well go ahead and execute Kuryakin now."

"Stop right now or I'll shoot!"

"Agent Dancer, isn't it? Imbeciles! Did none of you check to make sure Solo was alone?"

"So hard to get good help these days, isn't it? Now, have your man back away from Illya."

"I don't think so. I know you U.N.C.L.E. agents and those little darts you like to use so much. You might knock me out for awhile, but my men will kill Solo and Kuryakin before you can take another shot."

_gunshot_

_thud_

"Krinard!"

"Well, would you look at that? Well, blokes, it appears my gun doesn't have any of those little dart things. Just real live bullets and I won't hesitate to put one through your skull like I did for your man, Filene. April? Go check the corpse for the keys to Illya's chains while I keep my gun on Mister Filene. Napoleon? Why don't you join me over here?"

"Gladly, Mark. Nice timing, by the way. Interesting choice of apparel though."

"I was told that rescues were basically 'come as you are' affairs. Find the keys, April?"

"Got them."

"Come over here and give Napoleon a hand first."

"Right. There we go, darling."

"Thanks, April. Aim your weapon at that fellow. Alright, sir - you can hand back over my weapon now or I'll take it myself after Miss Dancer shoots you. Wise decision. You help Mark cover these bozos, April. I'll get Illya."

"Gladly. Here's the keys."

_jangling_

_unlocking_

"Easy, tovarich. How are you doing?"

"I have been better."

"Bloody hell - you're back to English?"

"Yes, Mark. The jolt from being shot during our escape attempt seemed to clear my head."

"Talk about the cure being worse than the disease."

"I would not argue that point, April."

_hiss_

"Sorry, Napoleon. It would seem I cannot stand on my own yet."

"No worries, I've got you, chum. April, call our backup."

_communicator tones_

"Open Channel J. Dancer to Bratcher."

"Bratcher here. Status?"

"Have the teams come in. There are two bodies and five prisoners to take into custody. Medical is needed ASAP."

"I've given them the signal. They're on their way. Bratcher out."

"This isn't over, Solo."

"No, you're wrong, Filene. It is over."

"Napoleon! Look out!"

_gunshots_

"Remind me to put you in for a sharp shooting commendation, Mark."

"Never mind that. Are you and Illya alright?"

"I'm only grazed. Illya let his legs go out from underneath him and it drug me to the side. Filene?"

"He's dead."

_communicator tones_

"Dancer here."

"I heard shots. What happened?"

"Filene had a hidden weapon we didn't know about. Clear for the teams now. One extra corpse, one extra wounded."

"Acknowledged. Bratcher out."

"You - the doctor. Get out of your lab coat and toss it over here. Good. Here, Illya. It's not much, darling, but it's better than nothing."

"Which is what I currently have. Thank you, April."

"And here comes the cavalry. Ready to go home, pal?"

"More than ready, Napoleon. Just one request?"

"What's that?"

"No airplanes."

"I second that."


End file.
